


but i'll tell you what i'm not afraid to die/ im more afraid of what might happen first

by Doodlelupin



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (not quite but tagging to be safe), Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Loneliness, Martin Blackwood Has ADHD, POV Martin Blackwood, Suicidal Thoughts, he goes out to get alcohol also, his mother is mentioned, lmao im not sure how to tag this, maybe dont read if you arent in like. a great headspace, oh boy, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:14:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28551444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doodlelupin/pseuds/Doodlelupin
Summary: Going out to buy alcohol to drink alone is a perfectly acceptable way to spend an afternoon. Simple objective. Surely Martin can get this one thing right...
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Sasha James, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Tim Stoker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	but i'll tell you what i'm not afraid to die/ im more afraid of what might happen first

**Author's Note:**

> tw this gets kind of intense though i suppose you should know it from the tags (spoilers: hes ok tho)

_ Sorry!! Tim’s dragging me to his cousin’s wedding tonight! I think he still feels like we're in a romcom and I'm going to fall for him if we go on enough fake dates. *eye roll* Anyway, rain check on the pub night!! See you at work XO _

Martin threw his mobile down on his bed after reading Sasha’s text. He knew he should have expected Tim and Sasha to be busy. They always had something going on. He wasn’t mad at them, how could he be? They hadn’t done anything wrong. He did have to admit he was jealous, though. Now he was going to be stuck at home alone for the millionth night in a row. And he really could’ve used that drink-

“I’m a grown adult!” He interrupted his own train of thought, speaking aloud to himself. “I can just go out and buy something. Have a nice little drink with myself. Go for a little walk. It’ll be good.” The grocery closest to him didn’t carry alcohol, but there was one about a half hour walk away that did.

He dragged himself out of bed (finally, it was nearly 4pm) and searched around for something to wear. He slipped out of the t-shirt he’d been wearing since the day prior and threw on a nice jumper. He pulled on some jeans and socks, grabbing a hat and his jacket. It was starting to properly get into winter now and he was sure he’d need it. He peeked out the window to get a sense of the weather. Raining. 

“Perfect.” He muttered, rolling his eyes. “I’m not going to let this ruin my plans, though. Nope. I have an umbrella. This will be fine.” Martin rummaged through his front closet until he found said umbrella. The tip of it was rather scuffed up but there were no holes in it, and that’s all that really mattered. He grabbed his backpack at the last minute. Heavy glass bottles were probably easier to carry that way. And he didn’t want everyone who saw him on the way back to judge him.

Martin locked the door to his flat and set out. Fortunately, it wasn’t raining as hard as he’d thought it had been. It was only a drizzle. Unfortunately, there was a sharp wind that threatened to flip his umbrella at any minute, a problem not aided by the cars whizzing by. His hands felt like ice and he’d only been walking for a couple minutes. He fished some earbuds out of his pocket and put on some music to keep him company. He hated being alone with his thoughts. He decided he would focus on the music and enjoy his walk. He had to concentrate on holding his umbrella at the correct angle to avoid it flipping; between that and the music, he could mostly keep his thoughts away from how sad it was to be drinking alone on a Friday night. Mostly.

The walk took ages. Martin tried to avoid stepping in puddles for the most part, though it wasn’t always an option. He had to peer out from under the umbrella every time he came to the end of a block to check for cars, which also slowed him down. He stopped to check his mobile every once in a while, secretly hoping Sasha would cancel on Tim. Or that Rosie would text him. Or David. Or Hannah. Even  _ Jon _ , at this point. He would settle for being chewed out for ‘not being thorough enough’ again if it meant a little human contact. But of course, every time he checked the screen was painfully blank. No messages. His phone did buzz once, giving him a little jolt of excitement. It was a notification that the storage space on his phone was running out. He tried to bite down the disappointment that was seeping into his bones.

After what felt like a year, he finally spotted the shop. The way up to it was a mess that clearly had not been intended for pedestrians, so he reluctantly closed his umbrella to be better able to see where he was going. He would be inside in a minute or two anyway.

At long last, Martin stood outside the shop, victorious. He put his hands in his pockets to warm up as he walked towards the door and felt something that sent a wave of terror down his spine, stopping him in his tracks. The inside of his pocket.  _ Only _ the inside of his pocket.

“Of course.” He laughed bitterly, patting his pockets in vain. Chest pocket was empty, jacket pockets were empty, front trouser pockets only had his keys and back pocket only his phone. He pulled off his backpack, fully knowing he had put his wallet in his work bag. He couldn’t accept it yet. He checked the whole thing twice, finding one dusty piece of gum, a broken pen and a napkin. In the side pocket, as a final blow, was two quid. Couldn’t buy anything with that. And besides, he always got carded anyway. Babyface, apparently.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s how it had to go, wasn’t it?” He nodded, grinning. He couldn’t tell if he was about to burst into tears or laughter. It was so fitting. Had he ever done a  _ single _ thing right? How could he have expected to simply waltz into a store and purchase something? Now he was half soaked, shivering and talking to himself outside of a store he couldn’t even buy anything from. He couldn’t stop nodding, needing the constant motion to give him something to concentrate on aside from his blinding failure. He pulled his bag back over his shoulder and looked around for the best way out of the shopping centre. He started walking, feeling his emotions coming to a head.

The rain was good for exactly one thing; at least no one would be able to tell the tears from the rain dripping down his face. He felt utterly ridiculous. Crying. Over a forgotten wallet?

Logically, Martin knew people forgot their wallets all the time; he knew it wasn’t a big deal. He also knew that a breakdown over something that seemed small was the result of building stressors, and the size of the straw that broke the camel’s back was irrelevant.

This couldn’t stop the onslaught of thoughts, however.  _ Useless. Stupid. Absent-minded. Careless. Fuck-up. Couldn’t even do something as basic as checking for a goddamn wallet before leaving. No wonder Sasha didn’t want to see you. No wonder you’re alone again. Jon was right, you can’t do anything right. Just a hindrance. A setback. Pathetic. _

Martin was walking quickly, trying to stomp away from his thoughts. The sooner he got home, the sooner he could- what, cry on the couch? Christ, he lived a sad little life.

He could barely see where he was going but he didn’t particularly care. He gave up on trying to avoid puddles, splashing through them with reckless abandon. He hadn’t bothered to open his umbrella again. What was the point? He was already dripping. And besides, the stinging droplets hitting his face felt like a fitting punishment. 

He hadn’t stopped his music, but of course he had only put his playlist on shuffle. The songs were conveniently getting more angry and depressing the further he walked. It wasn’t surprising; he wasn’t a fan of happy songs. At least, not at the current moment. It felt...fake, somehow. He didn’t believe them. He didn’t know what they were talking about and he wasn’t sure he ever would. Though he was certain hearing people repeat his worst thoughts back to him couldn’t be healthy, he felt like he needed to allow himself time to wallow in it. He needed to feel it to its full extent. He deserved it.

He couldn’t tell if the gnawing feeling in his stomach was from anxiety or hunger. Probably a mix. He couldn’t remember to eat half the time and even when he did he couldn’t figure out what to make. And if he could think of something to eat, he often couldn’t muster up the energy to make it. And sometimes he just flat out didn’t want to. He wasn’t sure what combo had hit him this morning (probably largely executive dysfunction, considering he hadn’t gotten out of bed until less than an hour prior) but whatever it was, it had resulted in an empty stomach once again. He knew that made him feel worse on every level but he simply couldn’t help it. That probably was not helping his mood, but at this point he was so mad at himself he couldn’t even think about doing something that related to taking care of himself. It was the last thing he deserved.

And besides, it could just be anxiety. He had always been hypervigilant when it came to roads. He simply didn’t trust drivers. He checked both ways religiously, borderline obsessively, and had refused to jaywalk until he was 18. If he was alone he still avoided it, only caving around others because he had been called names so many times for refusing to do so. This anxiety was heightened in the rain. Wet roads meant both that cars could skid and that he could slip in front of them, two alternatives he often pictured against his will. Could add intrusive thoughts to his lengthy laundry list of symptoms.

Though this had been a concern on the way to the shop, these anxieties had begun to dwindle. Not a good sign. Though being anxious to the point of paranoia was obviously not fun to deal with, at least the fear let him know he had a strong survival instinct. When his fears began to fade, however, a different kind of worry set in.

He had been gradually turning up his music as he walked, trying to block out all of his thoughts and replace them with music. It wasn’t working particularly well but he was at least thankful for the stimulation. On a normal occasion, he would be worried about damaging his hearing or being unable to hear approaching cars. Unfortunately for Martin, this was not a normal occasion. The further he walked, the less he cared about his future hearing, or his future in general. He just couldn’t see the point. He couldn’t even perform a basic task. He was doing a horrible job at work, and it was only a matter of time until they found out he’d lied on his CV and fired him. Then where would he be? His mum-who hated him anyway- would have no money for the care she needed. He must, however, have a pretty good life insurance policy. Surely his mum could get something if he were to…

He tried to turn up his music louder but it was already as loud as it would go. This had not been the first time he had thought about that particular subject this week. That made him feel even more ridiculous. He wasn’t even having a particularly hard week! Not socially, anyway. Mentally was a whole different story. He couldn’t even explain it, he just...didn’t see the point anymore. He wasn’t serving a purpose. At least when he lived at home he knew his mum relied on him. He never thought about doing anything rash any more than in passing because he knew as much as his mum hated him, she needed him.

But now? Who needed him? He was just standing in everybody’s way. Taking up space, making messes, ruining things. He wasn’t helping anyone with his “uh, d-do you w-want some t-tea?” He was just a hindrance. A burden.

Martin’s swiped at his eyes, sniffling from both the crying and the cold. His eyes were trained on a spot ahead of him, not so much as a passing glance to the roads anymore, even when he crossed. He half-hoped someone would blow through a stop sign. But even then, that would be a burden to the driver and anyone else in the car. Trauma, court, a fine, maybe even jail time. Over him? It was almost enough for him to start looking again. Almost. His music was up so loud he wouldn’t have even heard a warning honk.

“Oh.” He said softly, coming to a stop as he realized where he was. He had made it back to his flat. He...hadn’t been sure he would. He stood there for a moment, trying to tell himself going in would be better than flinging himself into the Thames. Eventually he decided that, worst come to worst, he did have a bathtub.

He trudged inside, shirking off his bag, his jacket, and his hat at the door. He hung them in the closet, hoping they would dry. He dropped his umbrella beside the door and slipped out of his boots. He shuffled into his bedroom, trying not to drip all over his floor. He peeled off his wet clothes, grabbing a heavy jumper and some warm pajama bottoms.

Martin turned on the shower. It was far too hot, the water stinging his freezing skin. He hissed in pain as he stepped in, but after a moment it faded into a pleasant sensation. He considered turning on music but he had left his phone in his jacket pocket. His thoughts had quieted to a dull murmur. They still weren’t great, but he didn’t feel like he was actively in danger anymore. That was something.

He washed the rain from his hair, letting the scorching water remind him what his skin felt like. He dug his fingernails into his scalp as he lathered the shampoo, focusing on the sensations and scents around him. The bubbles on his fingers smelled like coconut. He scrubbed his face with the face wash he kept in the shower. He rinsed his head, watching the bubbles swirl around his feet. He tried to be present in the moment. Grounding, a therapist had once called it.

As he combed the conditioner through his hair with his fingers, he imagined the hands of someone else. Strong, soft hands, tenderly caring for him. He closed his eyes, envisioning the man who would love him so sweetly, who would tend him and help him build himself back up. Who would gather the pieces of himself he had strewn and help him to fit back together again.

It was as he picked up the body wash that he realized that  _ he _ was the man. He wasn’t sure if there would be another. He’d like there to be, of course he would. But regardless of whether he had someone else to care for himself, he would always have  _ himself _ . He smiled, electing to ignore the potential cheesiness of the sentiment. He leant into it. He gently caressed his own cheek, trying to show himself the care he’d always been so quick to bestow on everyone else. He moved slowly and deliberately as he scrubbed his arms and chest, keeping the touch tender. Martin tried to appreciate himself the way he would appreciate someone else.

“These hands,” He said softly. “Perfect for caring for people. For making tea. For writing poetry.”

“These arms,” He continued. “Strong and capable. Always able to get boxes down for Jon.” He smiled. “This chest holds a strong heart. A caring heart. Perhaps too much for its own good, but nonetheless.” He proceeded as such, gently washing and appreciating his body, letting the negative thoughts pass and calmly suggesting more positive ones.

As he rinsed off, he felt better than he had in a long time. He was by no means perfect and was sure he would feel down again tomorrow, but for tonight? He was going to love himself. He was going to try his damndest to take care of himself the way he would anyone else. And he would start with a nice cup of tea.

**Author's Note:**

> realized it kind of sucked that i kept writing characters relying on others to "fix" them? self care baybie!!   
> (also the thing hes doing where hes appreciating the value of different aspects of himself was also recommended to him by that therapist that told him about grounding but i just didnt wanna ruin the flow of the text by inserting that in randomly lmao...also surprisingly i do not know what he's listening to. heart says he started with mitski and moved towards mcr and frank iero but if yall imagined smth different lmk!)  
> the title lyric is from Jimmy Mushrooms Last Drink by Will Wood and the Tapeworms  
> hope you enjoyed! get yourself a cup of tea <3


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